Moments
by CryHope
Summary: Bitesize, cookies, and cakes! oh my! Drabbles of moments between D&L.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Meh… not mine.

**A/N:** My offering to the DL authors. This drabble is not chronological and is not set around a particular time period in the canon universe. Un-betaed, so mistakes that you will find are mine. Since I've no patience to write full-fledged stories, here are moments from my own version of the DL universe. Enjoy.

* * *

She wasn't much of a coffee drinker back in Montana.

But New York never sleeps, and criminal knows no holiday, and she learns to accept the cup of coffee, with a hint of vanilla for her still virgin taste buds, from him. The caffeine still feels foreign in her blood, not uncomfortable, but a reminder that she's not yet addicted to the beverage.

Danny said it'd be another year till she is drinking hers black.

The next day, a large Styrofoam cup sat on his desk at the start of his shift.

She may not be a coffee drinker yet, but she knows how to appreciate the gesture that he knows how she likes her caffeine.

* * *

He was running. After a suspect with a gun.

Lindsay sighed. _Here we go._ She hates it when they run. Messer was already sprinting and she didn't doubt for a second that he was a New Yorker through and through. To be able to dodge traffic and seeming to know at exactly what angle to lean to make his turn faster was a city boy at his best.

And like all those cop shows, the suspect leads them to a dead-end alley, with the barrel of the gun pointed at Messer's head, and Lindsay was torn between feeling scared and pissed off that this was happening. _Again_.

* * *

He was a mama's boy.

The phone has been shrilling for the past thirty minutes and was thinning Lindsay's resolve of minding her own business. Danny is still in Mac's office. Both men had their heads bent over a file, arms tense and jaws tight. Lindsay cast another glance at her half-written report then back towards Mac's transparent glass walls. Nipping her bottom lip, she expelled a breath before picking up the receiver.

And was greeted by a string of Italian phrases, all of them delivered in precise and reprimand tone.

_Uh-oh_. Mama Messer.

When Lindsay heard the woman on the other end took a pause to breathe, she quickly interject and said, "Approvazione, gli dirò quello."

There was another intake of breath from the other line, sharper and more distinct this time, and Lindsay imagined the surprise look upon Mrs. Messer's face. And as expected, the older woman began to profusely apologize in both English and Italian.

When Danny Messer walked in two minutes later, he raised his head from the DNA result folder and halted at the threshold of his shared office. Because the other holder of the said shared office is currently sharing his landline. And talking in Italian. And before his brain question to how Lindsay Monroe, a country girl from the quiet state of Montana, knew Italian, he thought, _shit that's mama on the other line_.

* * *

He likes his beer cold. And Marty always provide one after days like today, where it wasn't the New York's pollution only that's trying to suffocate him, but the sick and twisted knowledge that human's gift of imagination and large brain could be seen as a playground for some of the deaths he had processed.

He emptied half of the bottle, letting condensation to seep onto his skin.

He chugged back the rest when she slid to the stool next to him at the bar and ordered a beer. He had pegged her for more of the fruity drinks, but she's from Montana, where it's normal for girls to carry blade sharp enough to cut frozen meat. And after working the same case today, he let the bubbling comment in his mouth sizzled, and sat next to her in silence as Marty brought a new cold one for him, and one for her.

He was comforted that they both like cold beer after a day like this.

* * *

She would like to think that they've undress each other before his hand touched her bare back.

She is no mynx. But she is a woman with a healthy heart and a certain appreciation for details. And for many of her New York moments, she had definitely appreciated the details of one Danny Messer. Being in the forensic department also enhance her ability to uncover what's hidden. So she, among with many other female occupants of the lab, had partake in uncovering a bit of the allusive and alluring Danny Messer as the machine swirls behind her in search for an answer.

She found that his sweat-drenched body on top of hers was a more than a satisfied answer.

* * *

A/N part dos: As always, please review. 


	2. Dos

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Not yours. Not any of the girls that want to jump Carmine.

**A/N:** Thank you for the reviews. Another set. Slightly longer than "**bite-size**", so some cookies perhaps?. Still not chronological. Unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

Dedicated to those who signed **Sugah's** petition.

* * *

Flack is a man of honor. He believes in freedom and justice, and all the moral values they drilled him at the police academy. He believes that if he pushed enough, give enough effort and patience, the outcome is a beautiful confession from a cracked mind suspect.

He believes in the truth.

And after hanging around Mac's team, he believes that people are liar and hypothesis, until proven wrong, always lead to an answer.

And God help him if he wasn't going to find the truth out of Danny.

" So Lindsay," Flack started. " What you doin' this Friday?"

Lindsay looked up from her mug of tea, and furrowed her brows. " Do we have a meeting?"

Flack pushed off from the counter of the small kitchenette of the break room that he's been leaning on, and shrugged his shoulders. " Nah… just wondering if you're free." He fidget with his tie, scuffed his shoe against the floor shyly, and completes the act with a slightly hopeful voice, " are you?"

And tried his hardest to look completely endearing.

Lindsay gave him a tiny smile, and Flack thought that she looks good when she's a bit flustered—face slightly pink, surprise crowding her irises. Catching sight of Danny's tense body beside Lindsay, a small part of him thought he understood why they bicker.

" No… I'm not busy."

" Great," Flack smiled. " There's this new wine bar across town, and thought you might appreciate the drink."

" Yea.. that sounds good." Her phone went off, and before she leaves the break room, Flack called out, " I'll pick you up after shift!"

When Lindsay was out of sight, and hearing radius, Danny looked at him with icy blue eyes Flack recognized only from interrogation.

Flack just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, "What?"

" You interested in her?" Danny gruffly asked, arms cross, jaw tense.

" Are you?" Flack challenged.

* * *

She felt a whisper of air brushing her neck, and turned to find Danny staring intently at the window that was open on her computer screen. Before she could slap, shriek in indignant, or even more smartly close the said window, Danny spoke.

"Didn't pegged you as the cooking type Montana."

Lindsay turned and faced her computer screen, deciding that acting nonchalant would curb Danny's interest. She clicked a button to indicate the next recipe that she was browsing. Two sets of eyes read the recipe in silent, and for a second, Lindsay thought that Danny was genuinely interested in cooking. Lindsay quickly read over the instruction again and thought that this might be the one to try.

When she hits the print button, Danny spoke up again. " You're not seriously gonna try this are you?" He had straightened up and was giving her an incredulous look, like Lindsay was going to do something extremely taboo.

Her phone beeped a message. Lindsay glanced at it, and then snatched the printed paper.

Grabbing her kit, she waved and was gone with a distracted, " see ya later".

At the end of her shift, Lindsay was tidying her desk when she found a list of ingredients and concise instructions written in Danny's block handwriting.

_P.S. Don't insult the Italians. Heavy on the tomato, and leftovers are appreciated. _

The next day, she caught him at the end of his double shifts and shoved a container into his tired hands. With exhaustion already evident in the dull color of his eyes, he merely threw her a smile before walking out of the locker room.

* * *

Danny Messer knew the city better than anyone in the lab. Except maybe Stella. That woman knows everything.

So it was with a reluctant hand that he dropped the car key on Lindsay's outstretched palm after she declared that her favorite spot in New York City was a place Danny had never heard of.

They drove through the midnight traffic, passing by blurs of neon lights, a New York and big city way of claiming the night as their own. Danny tried to guess where this spot was exactly in the city plan ingrained in his mind. They turn to a quieter side of the city, where skyscraper gave way to apartment buildings and the city noise waned to a quieter dull.

She parked in front of a space between two buildings, presumably an alley, gated by a wrought iron gate. She threw a glance behind her shoulder, and smiled at Danny's confuse face. She stretched her hand to him, and he laced his fingers around hers, always a perfect fit. A gentle tug had his feet following her lead, and he was only reminded that it was in the middle of the night when the gate made a groaning noise from Lindsay's gentle push. The noise reverberated loudly against the brick walls encompassing the darkened space.

When Lindsay uncurled her fingers from his and left his side to wander further into the darkness, Danny felt a sudden gap in his stomach and was about to cry out for Lindsay when the space around them was suddenly bathed with fairy lights.

There, standing amidst what looked like a small garden, stood Lindsay. Arms wide indicating the scene behind her and a smile so innocent and giddy, Danny thought he should go to church more often to thank the Man upstairs. The lights were nestled along the leaves and snaking up around a sturdy tree at the corner of the small garden. Long, spidery veins hugged the brick walls, the leaves outstretched towards the night sky. A bench, aged with oxygen but clean from the city pollution, sat neatly besides a patch of flowers.

Lindsay took his hands in hers and they both sat down on the rusty bench.

" So," Lindsay glanced up at him. " What do you think?"

Danny took a look around the greenery and soft shadows and gave it an appreciative nod. "Not bad Montana."

She sighed against him and he wrapped his arms around her. _Not bad at all_.

* * *

She's full of compassion without the pity glance or the smoldering worry looks. She squeezed his shoulder after one of his stunts; the act transferring everything he needed to hear without compromising everything. _That was stupid, but you're okay_. He's both relieved and surprised that she let him have the ball in his court. Acknowledging, even for a brief few minutes that he's a man and entitled to his macho-ness.

He thinks maybe she doesn't really worry.

And that thought pained him more than the bruises and scratch wounds.

* * *

**A/N part dos:** Even if you don't leave a review, please take two minutes to check out **Sugah's** petition and add your name as a sign for your support to this lovely ship. **Link can be found in my author's page**.

Thank you,

Bo-


	3. Tres

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N:** This is so not bite-size anymore. I think it's getting a tad bit bigger than a cookie, but when a scene becomes a full-fledged cake, I will share, and you will congratulate me in reaching that baking stage. **These scenes are not chronological.** It is again un-betaed, and some of these cookies do need a look over (English is not my first language). So if you're interested, then please drop me a line.

Enjoy

* * *

Seven years. That's how long he had gone without smoking. 

_Seven fucking years. _

He combed his hair with one hand, momentarily rubbing the back of his head before bringing the cigarette back to his lip and inhaled. He sat on the gray, slated roof top—back against a cement block and eyes wandering the skyline of New York City for something to catch him, hold him, even for a moment. He took another drag, quietly finishing the stick with a sigh, the haze of white smoke joining the night air.

He reached for his next cigarette; adamant to finish the pack and hope for the nicotine to flush, cope, or simply numb the cocktail of exhaustion and feelings in his tired body. He brought his lighter against the tip, unsuccessfully lighting the cigarette with the wind startling the fire. A hand cupped the other side of the light, opposite from his own, and he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with smoke, before blowing them out. _Montana_.

He closed his eyes, feeling his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. The nicotine had calmed and dulled his demon of the night, but someone upstairs seems to think Danny had enough in his system to deal with another not so pleasant aspect of his life.

_First lapse in seven years, might as well deal with all the shit. _

He automatically took another deep drag; his weakened mind trying to figure out how to act around the woman who only yesterday, told him that their chemistry was not enough to battle the things she's dealing with.

He was about to speak, cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers, when she took the said cigarette and brought it to her lips, her eyes never leaving a spot in the distance. Danny was both surprised and turned on with the action.

Danny watched her from his peripheral vision. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Tapping the stick with her forefinger, the ashes gently glide along with the wind before resting somewhere in the distance. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Tap. Ashes. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Tap. Ashes.

It was hypnotic, this rhythm she had set. And when the rhythm was broken, and he felt her eyes shifted, he thought he might suffocate.

" Louie died today," he said, trying to relieve the pressure.

Danny glanced at her for the first time, taking in her subdued eyes, feeling, or maybe hoping, that she's beside him, bending down to an old habit to try and tame some of her past.

She held his gaze for one second. Two seconds. " I'm sorry", she whispered.

He welcomed the sincerity; saddened that she seems to know how he's feeling and unsure if he's ready to know why she's an expert at it.

She took the last few millimeters of the cigarette's white, before stubbing the end. He wordlessly gave her the next one from the half empty pack, and like before, he cupped the other side of the flame as she inhaled. Her eyes already strayed away from his.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Tap. Ashes.

Then she waved the cigarette towards him, and he set the rhythm again, neither one of them strong enough to say anything more.

They finished the pack in the familiar rhythm. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Tap. Ashes.

* * *

Mac lifted the crime scene tape and pursed his lips. Checking his watch, he noted that it was well past eight o'clock. Night was quietly settling in New York City, and so were the dead bodies. Lindsay and Thomas were already dispatched to a scene when he came back from his meeting at four. Stella and Hawkes were called in to a different scene an hour later, much to Stella chagrin. Something to do with a cancelled date. But Mac only gave her a shrug, noting that it's summer time. 

Mac hates summer time – humidity and the raised temperature putting a clock on the preservation of his crime scene.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned, only to raise an eyebrow as the figures approached him.

Danny only gave him a pointed look and said, "I had the night off."

"It's summer time."

" Yea, yea…I 'no."

Mac turned to the little boy hugging Danny's leg. He squatted, and caught the shy smile of Matteo Messer. "Hey there Mattie," Mac greeted the sleepy child. Matts only response was a shy, curling motion of his fingers that Mac took as a wave.

"Where's the DB Mac?" Danny asked, slowly detangling the grip of his son's arms around his leg.

Mac pointed in the direction of a darkened alley. Danny nodded before taking Matteo's hands in his large ones, enveloping them in a tight grip. He mimics Mac's stance and squatted down to be at the same height as Matteo.

"Matteo," Danny said, trying to sound like his own father when he wanted Danny to pay attention. " Wait here with Mac until mommy comes, okay?" Danny studied the brown eyes of his son, making sure that he would not run off anywhere or worse, follows Danny.

"Promise me," Danny said, moving his hands to smooth down Matteo's tousled hair.

"I pommise daddy," Matteo softly said.

Danny stood and said, " Lindsay should be here in five minutes. I called her on the way. Said that she finished processing the scene 'n swinging by to pick up Matt on the way to the lab."

Mad only nodded, and watched Danny's retreating back for a few moments before Matteo's little hand fit into his, clearly taking his promise to his father seriously.

* * *

Danny thinks that Lindsay is a woman of paradox. 

She's polite and intelligent in the way that country girls seem to be, but dangerous and unknown when she pulled out the occasional knife or football facts in the middle of a crime scene.

She's sweet and generous in the way that a well-mannered lady was supposed to be when she brought homemade cookies to Flack's place for the Sunday night football game. She helped herself to a third slice of pizza and passed Danny a beer before opening one up for herself, her smile relax and unpretentious, sort of like the girl that the guys took as one of their own gender. And among the men in the room, she was. The indication that she's a woman at all was the stretch of legs under a jeans skirt shorter than Danny would've imagined Montana wearing.

Between her enthusiastic cries at the referee for a fault nobody saw but her and the bare legs that rubbed against his whenever she shifted her position on the couch, he thinks he might fall in love with her.

**

* * *

A/N part dos**: Matteo means "Gift of God" in Italian. The first drabble may be my favorite so far. Tell me what you think. Review please. 


	4. Quatro

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own these characters, but if I did… I would make it a point to have Danny shirtless in at least one scene each episode.

**WARNING: THESE SCENES ARE NOT CHRONOLOGICAL.** Each segment is a drabble/bite-size scene in my version of the DL universe.

**A/N:** Thank you for the kind reviews. Here is another batch.

Unbeta-ed. You will find grammar mistakes. And they are mine.

Enjoy

* * *

There's a small scar running vertically, a millimeter from the curve of his lips—his tongue often runs across it, either out of habit or memory.

She knew that scar. Knew the skin in the before and after, had kissed and trace the outline of his mouth as he lay asleep on the pool table, and weeks later, when he had fallen asleep on the couch, and she was hit with the nauseous feeling that she almost lost him before she even had him.

He had caught her observation, how he often wakes up to the feel of her finger skimming lightly over the broken skin. He told her scars are sexy. She quirked an eyebrow and said, "Falling off a bicycle at the age of ten and giving you that scar," she rubbed her foot against the side of his knee of the said old injury, " is not sexy. It's pathetic."

He merely laughed, and offhandedly said that he got sexier scars, his mirth and suggestive brow enveloping her. She playfully slapped his chest and got off the bed, turning her face away from him and stepping into the bathroom, his cries of objection muffled by the wood door.

On the other side, she grasped the sink bowl.

Danny has a lot of scars. _Sexier ones, yes_. She's a scientist. She knows that they are evidence embedded in the body. They tell a story, some stupid, some horrific. She's a cop. She knows the violence, the danger of their job. She knows that other than the jagged skin across his left knee and the few scrapes on his elbows, the other scars are signs of survival. She dread but knew, that broken bones and broken skins will follow them—some caused by accidents, most caused in the name of justice.

Danny Messer is sexy. And God help her if he gets sexier.

* * *

Lindsay leaned back from her desk as several fliers plopped down on top of her current paperwork. She eyed them suspiciously before looking up at Danny, trying to figure out the sudden interruption.

" The hell Messer?" She asked.

Danny shrugged and crossed his arms. Lindsay tilted her head and said, " Let me rephrase that." Crossing her own arms, she held his gaze and said, " Why are there a dozen or more take out menus on my desk Danny?"

Danny threw her a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delights. " You neva' wanna eat out with me, so I figured I bring the food to you."

Lindsay could only laugh at his logic, noting that the boy is adamant in sharing dinner with her. " And you think I'd say yes to this?"

" A guy gotta do what a guy gotta do," he answered. He leaned against the glass wall, and nodded towards the menus. " So, what you eatin' Montana?"

Lindsay scanned the various choices. " Pizza with extra pepperoni?"

Danny smiled, one of those toothy ones that seem to take ten years off his face. Lindsay couldn't help but smile back; Lord knows he's handsome when he's like that. "I knew I like ya for a reason Montana," he replied, before flipping open his phone and hit speed dial. Lindsay could only give a knowing smirk, which she noted, he returned.

* * *

She watched, in stunned horror as the butt of the rifle came down hard against his back, forcing his knees to give, and he fell on the cement floor, the rifle now nestling against his neck, and all she could do was sit in the nondescript van and watched the scene unfold from their surveillance camera.

She barely registered the exchange of words between Mac and their perp, her eyes fixated on the crumpled form of a man she shared office with. All she could do was watched the small screen, trying to even out her breathing, grasping at professional detachment.

* * *

There's a desperate pull in their kisses. A sense of urgency, pent up lust, and a hint of something neither wanted to explore right now.

The small of her back leaned against the felt covered pool table, Danny's hand trapping her body before lifting her up on the table and biting, dragging his mouth over her neck, wanting to taste her; grinning when he found the right spot; hoping that he's not dreaming.

Her hands tugged him closer, his fingers already working the buttons and zippers. She tangled her fingers among his locks, before dragging her short clipped nails across his shoulder blades, wishing they were longer so she could mark him, own him, let him carry a bit of her tomorrow when reality is released from pause.

They both sported similar carpet burns from the felt, both knowing the science of friction and the pain associated with irritated skin, but the branding was theirs to own.

* * *

The sun was unusually relentless on his back; the rays pushing autumn further down the calendar. He felt the summer grass beneath his fingers, abstractly stroking the earth as he knelt down in front of the headstone.

He brought her favorite flowers, remembering a time when he teased her to be so girly when a bouquet of white roses was delivered to their then shared office. He remembered the slight chuckle that she emitted when she realized that Flack had stepped up and tried to play the classic romantic angle at winning her attention and affection. He had muttered a smart-ass remark that earned him a smack to the back of his head.

He rubbed the back of his head in remembrance of the ghosting pain.

He placed the flowers under her name, sobering when he realized just how young she was when she died—how young all of them are in the world. He's only a couple of years older than her. Flack is younger than him by three months. Even Stella and Mac are still at their primed. Lindsay…. He calculated that if yesterday had gone differently, Lindsay would've been buried at the same age as Aiden.

He pushed his glasses up, stood, and pushed his hands into his jeans pocket.

" Yesterday… yesterday you almost met her Aiden," Danny started. " But, not yet okay?" he whispered, feeling a tad bit silly for talking to a headstone as his Catholic upbringing giving him hope that she was listening somewhere.

" I just want…" he paused, slightly wondering exactly what he wants.

" I just need more time."

* * *

**A/N part dos:** Review please. And have a great day! 


	5. Cinco

**Disclaimer:** These characters are not mine. Seriously.

**WARNING: THESE SCENES ARE NOT CHRONOLOGICAL.**

**A/N:** This is again unbeta-ed. I've tried to catch the mistakes to the best of my ability, but if you feel that you want to beta some of these "drabbles", please drop me a line. Thank you to those who have given me such wonderful and kind words, as well as those people who did not leave a review but continues to read these scenes of mine. This batch has a longer "scene", which I contemplate on publishing it on its own. However, it's still rather "drabbl-y" in my opinion, so I stuck it in here. Maybe I'll tweak and post it separately later on in time, but for now, please enjoy.

**A/N part two:** Ooo, there's a reference to something that was said in an episode of the TV series Bones. See if you can find it.

* * *

Love is only what you give up  
Life isn't what you get  
Love won't always fill your cup  
But life's when you start to live  
Life's when you learn to give

("In A Way", Hanson)

* * *

After the chaos, all she could feel was the silence.

After the verdict, she held on tightly to his hand, needing something to tether her to the present.

After everything, time remains pushing forward; an invisible force that she longed to be a part of.

He found her in her old room, sitting by the window seat; the backdrop was inky country night and soft streaks of falling snow. She turned her head, gave him a small smile and nodded towards the nightstand, where a bottle of wine and a glass sat.

The wine felt heavy on his tongue, or maybe that's just his skin being oppressed by the air with its unsaid thoughts.

" Have a seat," she invited him; drawing up her legs, her own glass of wine nestled between her folded legs and hands. He sat opposite her; the alcove and soft quilt reminding him that next to his Ma's kitchen, this reminded him of home. He raised his glass, meeting hers halfway, the sound of clinking glass hovers over what they're saluting.

_To justice?_

_To lost friends?_

_To new beginning?_

" My mom likes you," she began, her lips curved behind the rim of her wine glass.

He chuckled. "Yea… Well I _love_ her gravy," he smiled. " I think I want to be alone with it. That's how much I love it."

The comment drew a grin from her. "Well my dad likes you too," she commented. " Congratulations," she saluted him.

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "He showed me his collection of hunting riffles, 'course he likes me," he said in a mock serious tone.

This riddled Lindsay in a fit of giggles. _Giggles!_ Heaven, she hadn't done that since hearing a drunken Flack singing some Britney Spears song and attempting to strip in the middle of a bar. The reminder of the people back in New York City squelched her giggles and replaced it with a ghost of a smile.

" I…" she started. She twirled the stem of her glass, and looked for a sentence to bridge the gap that they've, no she, had put.

In the end, she's a scientist, English was never her forte, and she touched his knee and said, "Thank you."

Covering her hand with his own, he gave it a light squeeze, "Anytime Montana."

He didn't remove his hand. She didn't draw back. They both took a sip of their wine, the liquid still heavy with rich berry flavors, words still laden with heavy confessions.

" When's your flight back?"

" Midnight."

She turned her hand around; her palm catching his hand. She's letting go, and she needed something to hold her to the present.

" I think you might've like them," she began.

"Yea..?"

She nodded, a bittersweet smile on her face. "Kelly would probably have had a crush on you."

"All the ladies do…" his New York accent stated.

She unclasped his hand and slapped his thigh lightly, which prompt them to fill the quiet house with soft laughter.

She leaned deeper into the padded sidewall, getting comfortable. For the first time in a long while, she reminisced her friends the way they should be remembered as—three teenage girls who loved and was loved by her.

And so they sat. Lindsay telling Danny about her best friends; Danny basking in what she's giving.

* * *

"Danny, NO!"

"Awww c'mon… it'll be so good."

" Stella nearly caught us last time, and I seriously want to keep my job!"

" It's none of her business what we do in our off hours."

" But Danny… we're still in the lab…."

" So?"

" So?! So we can't do this… it's inappropriate!"

" What I'm proposing is inappropriate? This coming from the girl who wanted to do a certain something in Adam's office earlier…"

" Hey! We agreed not to talk about these activities. It's when we talk that,"

"… that we get caught. Yea, yea, I kno'"

" And doing things in Mac's office will definitely get us caught. Or worse, fired."

" Look, I value my job as much as yours, but Montana. It'll be so good. I'll make it worth your while."

" Worth my while eh?"

" Oh definitely."

"Hypothetically speaking, if I agreed to this, what do you have in mind?"

" I thought the ol' position would work best, given our surrounding, and as you mentioned, we don't want to get caught. Just simple in and out."

"I suppose it is tempting…"

" Mac won't suspect anything."

The next morning, Mac opened his office door and was greeted by a gush of water falling from a bucket precariously tilted above his head. On his desk sat a note.

_April Fools! Clean suit is in your closet. _

Mac could only shake his head.

* * *

Danny Messer learned early in his years that grand gestures and grand occasions don't necessarily mean grand at all. A grand gesture, he noted, is enjoyable but often time lacked a meaning when the effort was emphasized more in the grand rather than the gesture. Being accepted into another restless group of teenagers in New York alleys is as big as a grand occasion as being accepted into the Police Academy. Different type of restless young men and institute, but a grand occasion nonetheless in a New York boy's eyes.

So when asked if he want the night off on his thirty-first birthday, he politely declined, citing that work is more important than any silly grand celebration. Mac only nodded in acceptance and gave Danny a fatherly pat on the shoulder.

He swiveled his chair slightly from left to right as his computer searched the database for a lead he was working on. The last of the day technicians had waved him goodbye and wished him a happy birthday an hour ago. The 35th floor had dimmed and Mac's office hummed a quiet glow as he saw his mentor scribbling away paperwork. Danny glanced at his own stack, and gave a weary sigh.

"Already feeling old Messer?"

He glanced up at the figure by the door, surprised etched on his face. "You like older guys Montana?" He retorted.

Lindsay shrugged and went to her desk, dropping a paper bag on top of her purse. "Depends…"

Her open-ended response caught his attention. " Depends how?"

She shrugged nonchalantly again. " Oh you know… there are just those men that gets sexier with time."

" Am I one of those men?" he asked, enjoying the familiar banter. He quirk his eyebrow, placed a smirk on his lips, and held her gaze. They both saw the underlying flirtatious tension; they're not as oblivious as some of their coworkers' thought they were. But both have been careful in keeping the tension light, never letting their pupils to dilate further than necessary. Lindsay threw him a small smile and drop her eyes, deciding that they've acknowledge their sexual tension enough for the night.

" What are you doin' here? I thought you had the night off," Danny said, as he attempt to fan the charged air away from the room and steer the conversation to a less dangerous territory.

"Yea, I do…."

Even though his eyes had returned back to his computer screen, he could sense a second clause to her answer. " But…." He prompted.

"Well… I know it's your birthday," she smiled, coming over to sit in front of his desk.

" Yes it is," he confirmed with a nod.

" And I know Flack's not up to shape to do any bar hoping with you anytime soon," she paused to silently appreciate the adorable chuckle he often emitted and was currently doing, "and since you're pulling a double shift on your birthday, I thought I could give you something."

He glanced away from his computer screen and saw her bit the corner of her bottom lip in slight nervousness, drawing some of his blood a little bit south than necessary. Clearing his throat, he tried to keep his mind straight. " I'm on the clock Linds… I can't exactly go on a drinking binge with you. Unless, you're bringing me a little somethin' somethin' that Flack's choice of bar often offers…"

_Damn, there goes another image. _

Lindsay shook her head and rolled her eyes good naturally. "Nothing scandalous Danny," she assured him. A hint of disappointment fled across his eyes, but before Lindsay could scrutinize further, it disappeared behind his curiosity.

" What are you talking about here Montana?"

Lindsay answered by pulling out a healthy slice of his favorite oreo cheesecake from the bag she brought earlier and placed a single birthday candle on top. She stood and leaned towards him, his eyes following her hands and didn't dare to look at the view that she had presented him with. She pushed his keyboard aside and placed the plastic plate in front of him. Flourishing a lighter, she lit the single candle and whispered, " Make a wish."

He thought grand gestures waned in comparison to this simple act.

* * *

A/N part tres: A reviewer wanted something a bit funny-- I have no idea if I even scratched humor. Thank you for reading though, and review please! 


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